


No Risk, No Reward

by Heavenly_Pearl



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bisexual Emil Nekola, Cooking, Drama, F/M, First Kiss, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, References to a drunken kiss, Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 07:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21472240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavenly_Pearl/pseuds/Heavenly_Pearl
Summary: Though Emil has been in love with the Crispino twins for about as long as he's known them, he decides not to pursue either of them, not wanting to ruin their friendship. When he injures his knee, however, Sara volunteers to take care of him while Mickey is away and reveals that she has a crush on him. Is he willing to risk losing his friendship with Mickey for a chance at love?
Relationships: Michele Crispino & Emil Nekola, Michele Crispino & Sara Crispino, Michele Crispino/Emil Nekola, Sara Crispino/Emil Nekola, Sara Crispino/Seung Gil Lee
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	No Risk, No Reward

Emil mindlessly flipped through the available channels, stifling a yawn. He wasn't sure why he even bothered trying to find anything on TV. His Italian was getting better by the day, but attempting to watch anything for more than fifteen minutes usually gave him a headache. The language had far too many local dialects to try to keep up.

Then again, there wasn't much else to do when he was stuck on the couch all day.

It was ironic. His coach loved to lecture him on and on about his love of extreme sports, warning him that one day he was going to get himself hurt or killed or worse – worse, as in being unable to ever skate again, which was obviously much more terrible than, you know, a silly thing like _death_ – yet Emil had ended up busting his kneecap during an ordinary skating practice. Not even while attempting a jump at that! At least that would have been a badge of honor. No, his stupid toe pick had caught a rut in the ice while he was practicing his footwork sequence and he had tripped, landing on his knee in just the wrong way. Plain bad luck.

Fortunately, the injury was a so-called "stable fracture" that didn't require surgery. He did have to wear a cast, though, in order to keep the broken ends of bone in the proper position while they healed. His doctor wasn't sure how long it would take for his knee to heal completely – at least three months, in the best case scenario – but he was definitely out for the rest of the skating season, forced to drop out of Europeans and Worlds.

Though it was disappointing, Emil didn't mind skipping Europeans that much, even if he had been a dark horse pick for the podium before the injury. Sure, while it would have been wonderful to skate in front of a home crowd in Ostrava, nothing much was at stake at Europeans other than losing the extra spot he had earned for his country at last year's Euros. That was fine; the Czech Republic didn't have any other high-level skaters to send besides himself, anyway. He was more upset that he wouldn't be able to see his family, who had planned to come to the competition to cheer him on. It had been six months since he and his coach moved to Rome to train at the same rink as the Crispino twins in search of better training conditions, and he missed them more than he thought he would.

Missing Worlds was a much more bitter pill to swallow, as this year's results would determine most of the limited spots available for next year's Olympic Games in Pyeongchang. Since Emil was the only Czech skater with the technical minimum scores to even compete at Worlds in the men's event, that meant he would have to hope to grab one of the final remaining qualifying spots at Nebelhorn next September. That wasn't likely to be a problem as long as he was healthy again by that point, but it was an added stress he didn't need during such an important season.

And Emil _hated _stress. He did everything to avoid it, choosing to just go with flow whenever possible. His motto was "que sera, sera" – whatever will be, will be – but the Olympics were the one thing he wasn't willing to leave to chance.

Argh, he wished he could walk, run, do something! Sitting around, watching TV, was not in his nature. He loved to move his body, to chase after the high he could only experience from the pure adrenaline of pushing himself to the edge.

Determining that there was nothing worth watching currently on, Emil turned off the TV and set the remote aside. He then stuffed his hand down the front of his pants, laying back on the couch and closing his eyes as he rubbed himself.

Jerking off was about the only thing he could do to work off his excess energy. It wasn't as thrilling as landing a quadruple loop or nailing a clean short program, but it was a more than adequate enough substitute. His breathing becoming quick and shallow, Emil was on the edge of coming when he heard the doorknob jiggling as someone unlocked the door to his apartment.

"Crap!"

That would be Michele, who had taken it upon himself to come by twice a day to check on him ever since the accident. Emil yanked his hand out of his pants and scrambled to cover himself with a throw blanket, managing just in time.

However, the person who opened the door wasn't Mickey, but his pretty twin sister, Sara.

"Sara, what are you doing here?" he yelped, startling her.

"Oh, sorry. Should I have knocked? Mickey said it would be okay to just let myself in with the key."

"No, no, it's fine." Emil smiled, taking in a couple of breaths to calm himself down. Thank goodness she hadn't seen anything! He might have been able to laugh it off with Mickey, but Sara was a different story. "I was just surprised, that's all. I wasn't expecting you. Where's Mickey?"

Sara headed to the kitchen with a canvas bag full of groceries. "He's in Milano, filming a commercial for one of his sponsors, remember? He'll be gone until Sunday."

"Oh, yeah. Right." Now that she mentioned it, Emil vaguely remembered Mickey saying something about that while he was playing _Mario Kart_, but he had been too in the zone to pay much attention. Really, Mickey ought to know better by now not to tell him important information when he was playing video games.

"How's the knee?" Sara asked, coming back out once she finished unpacking the groceries.

Emil grimaced as he shifted his position on the couch, attempting to hide his still raging boner from Sara's view. "Hurts like hell, but I'll live."

She grabbed a pillow from the armchair. "Here, let me –"

"I'm fine," he said, holding up a hand.

"But –"

"If you want to help, could you get me one of my pain pills? They should be on the bathroom counter."

"Sure. I'll be right back."

She set the pillow back down on the chair and headed to the bathroom, giving Emil just enough time to button himself back up before she returned.

"Here," she said, handing him the pill and a small glass of water.

He smiled gratefully. Though he mainly made the request to get her out of the room, it was about time for his next dose anyway. "Thanks," he said before swallowing the pill. "You know, I'm surprised Mickey allowed you to cover for him." He wasn't sure if he should be flattered or insulted that his best friend apparently trusted him enough to be alone with his beloved sister when Mickey usually chased away any guy who even dared to look in Sara's direction.

Sara sighed, shaking her head. "Believe me, he wasn't happy about it, but I insisted."

"Well, I promise I will be on my best behavior." It wasn't as if he could do much of anything anyway, with his bum knee and all…

"Oh." She tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. "I was planning to make _risotto alla pescatora_ for dinner. Is that okay? You aren't allergic to shellfish or anything like that, are you?"

"No, sounds great!" His stomach practically growled at the thought of an actual home-cooked meal. "Mickey usually just makes me cereal or sandwiches." Not that he didn't appreciate it, but he was so. freakin'. tired. of. sandwiches.

"That's for the best," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Trust me."

She went back to the kitchen, Emil sighing as he watched the gentle sway of her hips as she walked. It was just his luck to be injured when he finally got to spend some time alone with Sara without Mickey breathing down his neck – not that he would do anything anyway. He valued his friendship with the both of them too much to ever pursue anything romantic with either of them.

But if things had been different…

"Emil, do you have a pot I could borrow?"

"Sure, it's up –" He reached for his nearby crutches and started to stand. "Wait, I'll get it for you."

"No, just tell me where it is. I can find it."

"You're not tall enough to reach it," he pointed out. "Besides, I'm not completely bedridden." Emil hobbled to the kitchen on his crutches and grabbed a large pot from the cabinet over the refrigerator where he stored the items he rarely used. A cast-iron skillet was usually enough to meet his culinary needs. "Here, is this one big enough?"

She flashed him a smile. "It's perfect. _Grazie_."

Rather than returning to the couch, Emil leaned against the breakfast bar, balancing on his good leg, and watched Sara as she prepared the risotto. He suspected it was something she cooked often, since Emil didn't see a recipe laying around. She appeared just as much at home in the kitchen as she did on the ice, her motions smooth and practiced, like a chef on one of those cooking shows he had gotten in the habit of watching when nothing else was on TV.

_Cucinare Italiano Con Sara Crispino _did have a nice ring to it. Hey, if Brian Boitano could have a cooking show, why not Sara?

"Do you like to cook?"

"_Si_." She finished washing the fresh shrimp she had brought with her, shaking off the excess water. "Mickey's cooking is terrible, so when we lived together, I made most of the meals," she said, frowning as she turned off the faucet. "Lately, it's not as fun, though. Cooking for yourself is lonely…"

"Mickey's apartment is right next to yours, isn't it? Why don't you have dinner with him?"

Sara wagged the knife in her hand. "Because that would defeat the entire purpose of us getting our own places, Emil. He needs to learn how to live on his own."

Personally, Emil didn't see much difference when they continued to live in the same apartment building, only a few feet away from each other, but he kept his mouth shut. _Baby steps_, he had to remind himself. Still, he agreed that it was good for the both of them to be more independent. Their codependency had borderlined on the unhealthy over the years he had known them. 

"You could invite over a boyfriend? Girlfriend?"

"Maybe one day…" she said, a faint blush coloring her tan skin.

"Are you, like, interested in anybody?" he asked in what he told himself was simple friendly curiosity.

"Well, actually…" Sara set her knife to the side and glanced around the apartment as if to assure herself that nobody else was around. She then leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Last summer, when Mickey and I were touring in South Korea, Seung-Gil Lee and I kind of had a moment, but I keep texting him and texting him –"

Unable to stop himself, Emil burst out laughing.

"What is so funny?" she asked, hand on her hip.

"Sorry." He wiped the tears from his eyes. "Seung-Gil kissed you? When he was drunk?"

"How do you know that?" Her striking violet eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You weren't even on that tour. The only person I told was Mila, and I swore her to secrecy. I haven't even told Mickey."

That much was obvious. If she had, Seung-Gil would be six feet under by now, and he and Mickey would be on the next plane to Mexico. Or maybe Fiji. Aruba might be nice, too…

"Seung-Gil kisses _everybody_ when he's drunk," Emil explained. "He's even kissed me. It's kind of his thing."

Her shoulders dropped. "Oh…"

"Oh, crap, Sara, I –"

He was such an idiot! He had forgotten that despite the fact that she was nearly four years his senior, Sara had very little experience when it came to romance thanks to her over-protective twin brother. There was a good chance that the kiss with Seung-Gil had been her very first, and he had treated it like a silly joke after she had trusted him with her secret.

"No, it's okay." She forced a smile to her face. "At least now I know why he never texts me back, right?"

"Would it make you feel any better if I told you that I don't think Seung-Gil is even into girls?"

"Maybe a little," she said, sighing as she resumed preparing the shrimp. "I only wish it hadn't been my first kiss."

So his intuition was correct. "Just forget about it," he said. "You know, like those born-again virgins? Consider yourself a born-again…kisser." That sounded weird, but at least it made Sara laugh, her smile more genuine.

"Thanks, Emil."

By that time, his good leg was beginning to throb from standing on it for so long, so he grabbed his crutches and made his way over to the table, propping his cast up on one of the extra chairs. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through Instagram while he waited for dinner to be served.

"Man, Mickey is one lucky guy," he said, letting out a low whistle at the photo Mickey had just posted from the set of his commercial shoot. In it, a tuxedo-clad Mickey was dancing with a gorgeous woman in a low-cut sequined gown, the two of them in the middle of a grand ballroom he recognized from a wedding he had once attended with the twins at the Palazzo Parigi hotel. "I didn't know he was doing the shoot with Valentina Ricci! If I had, I would have told him to get her autograph for me."

"Let me see."

Sara set the large bowl of risotto she had been carrying in the middle of the table and held out her hand for his phone. After typing a quick comment, he handed it over.

"They look good together," she said. "Almost like a real couple."

"Ha, as if Mickey would ever have the balls to ask her out!" Emil said with a boisterous laugh.

Sara returned the phone and sat down in the chair across the table from him, piling generous helpings of risotto onto both of their plates. "Are you jealous?"

"Insanely. I used to jer—" He stopped himself just in time, realizing that his teenage masturbatory habits were probably not considered proper dinner conversation. "Well, let's just say I'm a huge fan of Ms. Ricci's work," he amended, setting his phone to the side.

"I'm sure you are," Sara said with a slight smirk. "But that's not really what I meant. I mean, you and my brother… Um…" Flustered, she stared down at her plate, poking at the risotto with her fork. "Well, you two are really close…"

"Ah…right." Emil was not unaware of the rumors. In fact, he often knowingly played into them, aware that the fans enjoyed it, but it wasn't like that. At least, not anymore. At one time, yes, his feelings for Mickey might have veered into the romantic, but Mickey never showed any interest in reciprocating, and over time, his crush had faded. Now, he considered Mickey more like the older brother he always wanted. "Nah, I wish him well in his quest to finally lose his virginity," he said. "Maybe he'll finally loosen up once he gets laid. Anyway, let's eat. I'm starving!"

Not wanting to talk about Mickey anymore, he took a large bite of the risotto and moaned in appreciation. He wasn't sure if it was Sara's cooking itself or just the novelty of eating something other than sandwiches for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, but he had never tasted anything more delicious in his entire life. "So good," he said, shoveling more into his mouth. "_Delizioso!_"

Sara smiled, propping her chin on one of her hands. "I'm glad you like it."

"Like it? I want to marry it."

"Hmm, I don't think the Italian government recognizes man/food marriages. Neither does the Czech Republic."

"Discrimination!" Emil exclaimed, banging his fork on the table. "All we want to do is love each other. Is that such a crime?"

"But think of the children, Emil!"

"Oh, right. I'd probably end up wanting to eat them, and that wouldn't be good." He sighed, staring down at his fork. "Sorry, Risotto, our love affair was not to be, but you will always remain in my stomach. Well, at least until I go to the bathroom."

Laughing, Sara shook her head. "You're such a goofball."

"It's all a part of my irresistible charm," he said. "But, seriously, this risotto is incredible. Maybe I should marry you instead!"

He'd meant the comment only in jest, but Sara blushed furiously, jumping from her seat. "D-Do you want anything to drink? Wine's probably not a good idea with your medication…"

"Oh, uh, water's fine. There are some bottles in the fridge."

Emil sighed as Sara walked over to the refrigerator for their drinks. That was an idiotic thing to say. He was Sara's friend – that's all he would ever be. He had accepted that a long time ago, but…

Sara returned to the table a few moments later, carrying a couple of glasses.

"You can have some wine if you want," he said, noticing that both glasses were filled with water. "Don't feel like you have to abstain on my account. I don't mind." He wasn't much of a drinker, anyway. He was more of a coffee guy.

"No, I better not." She set his glass down on the table in front of him before sitting back down in her chair. "Things…happen when I drink."

Oh, right, the thing with Seung-Gil. That wasn't her fault, though. Honestly, as much as he ribbed Mickey for being way too over-protective of his sister, Emil could understand the impulse. He wasn't a violent person by nature, but a part of him kind of wanted to punch Seung-Gil in the nose for stealing Sara's first kiss and ghosting her afterwards. The least he could have done was apologize and make it clear that it was a drunken mistake instead of letting her believe it meant something more for over half a year.

"Emil?"

He looked up. "Sorry, did you say something? I spaced out there for a moment."

"Never mind. It was a stupid question anyway," she said with a shake of her head.

"What was it?"

"No, just forget it."

Now he was really curious. "Come on, I promise I won't laugh."

"Well…" Sara set down her fork and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. "I was just wondering what your first kiss was like," she said, waving her hands in front of her chest. "But you don't have to answer if you don't want to. Like I said, it was a stupid question."

"I don't mind." After all, she had told him about hers. It was only fair for him to do the same. "With a girl? Or does it matter?"

"Whichever was first."

"It was a guy," he said, smiling fondly as he recalled the memory. "We were thirteen… No, wait, I was fourteen. It was my birthday, and somebody suggested we play Spin the Bottle at the party. It landed on Josef, who I had a bit of a crush on, so…I kissed him." Emil chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "It wasn't a great kiss, honestly. It was really nerve-wracking to do it in front of all our friends, but I got a boyfriend out of it, so I guess I didn't screw it up too bad. We definitely got better with practice."

"Now, see, that's a _cute_ story," Sara said, pointing her fork toward him. "That's the kind of story you can tell your future grandkids. Much better than 'I was a twenty-one year old loser who got drunk and swapped spit with a guy who wasn't even attracted to women.'"

"Hey, you are _not_ a loser, Sara," Emil said, reaching across the table to cover her hand with his. "I told you, just forget about what happened with Seung-Gil. You two were under the influence; it doesn't count."

"So now I'm the twenty-two year old loser who's never had a real kiss?"

"Again, not a loser, and there's nothing wrong with waiting until you meet someone special."

Sara sighed, picking at her risotto once again. "I guess…"

They ate the rest of the meal mostly in silence, Emil wishing he could think of something to cheer her up. The thing with Seung-Gil seemed to really be bothering her, more than he originally thought. The next time he saw Seung-Gil at competition, they would definitely need to have a talk about his drinking habits. Emil didn't think he was a bad guy – he probably didn't even remember what happened – but kissing random people while drunk wasn't good.

"So, what else does Mickey usually do when he comes over?" Sara asked as she cleared the dishes off the table after they finished eating, breaking Emil from his thoughts.

"He cleans up, and, he, uh…"

"What?"

"Well, he usually helps me take a shower," Emil mumbled, avoiding looking her in the eye.

"Oh."

He shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I can skip it tonight. It's not like I sweated a lot just sitting on my butt all day."

"Um, actually, if you want… I can give you a sponge bath," she suggested, Emil's eyes widening.

"You don't have to –"

"I want to." Her cheeks once again went red. "I mean, I really don't mind. I've given Mickey sponge baths before. It's no big deal." She picked up his plate. "Go brush your teeth, then go to your room and undress. I'll be there once I finish loading the dishwasher."

"O-Okay."

Emil reached for his crutches and hopped to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, taking a minute to trim his beard as well. Since he hadn't left the apartment since coming home from the hospital a week ago, he had let it grow wild, giving him the look of a prehistoric caveman. Frankly, he was surprised Sara hadn't run away screaming the second she opened the door. He then went to his bedroom, where he collapsed on the bed and began stripping out of his clothes. His T-shirt posed no problem, but his sweatpants were trickier when he couldn't bend his knee properly. He had managed to wiggle them half-way down his thighs when Sara softly knocked on the door.

"Emil, are you ready? Can I come in?"

"Uh… Just a minute!"

He pushed them down another inch or two, but that was really about as far as they would go.

"Do you need any help?"

He groaned, realizing he wasn't going to get them off without assistance, and let the back of his head hit the mattress. "Yeah, come in."

Sara entered the room and set her supplies on top of his dresser before walking over to his bed and handing him the crutches. "Here, stand back up," she said. "I think they'll be easier to pull down that way."

Emil pushed himself back up with the crutches, inhaling a deep breath when Sara reached for the waistband of his pants and began tugging them downward. Swallowing hard, he turned his attention to the ceiling, closing his eyes and picturing his coach in a Speedo to ward off any hint of arousal. _She's just helping me bathe_, he reminded himself. _Nothing romantic or sexual about it. A friend helping out a friend, that's all. Just keep cool…_

"There," she announced when she finished. Her eyes drifted down to his polka-dot-printed boxers. "Um, your underwear…"

"Leave them." Nudity was fine with Mickey – they saw each other naked all the time in the locker room, after all – but the situation was already awkward enough without Sara seeing him completely naked.

She was quick to agree. "Right. Good idea."

Sara grabbed a towel from the stack she brought with her and laid it down on the bed before helping Emil sit back down. When he was comfortable, she carried over the rest of the supplies and sat down on the edge of the bed. Emil involuntarily shivered as Sara pressed a wet washcloth to his back.

"Oh, sorry." She pulled the cloth away. "Is the water too cold? I tried to heat it up –"

"No, it's fine." His reaction had little to do with the water temperature.

"Are you sure? I can warm –"

He craned his neck, giving her a small smile. "I'm good. Really."

"Okay."

"Sorry for making you do this, by the way," Emil said, turning his head back around as she once again brought the washcloth to his bare back.

"You're not making me. I offered."

"I know."

He couldn't help feeling guilty, though. If Mickey ever found out that he let Sara give him a sponge bath while wearing nothing but his boxers… Well, he'd almost rather jump out of an airplane without a working parachute than face Mickey's wrath.

Sometimes he wished he never met the Crispino twins with their captivating purple eyes and unhealthy codependency. His love life would be so much easier if he had fallen in love with someone less complicated. Instead, he had to fall for a guy who wasn't interested and his gorgeous, but forbidden, twin sister.

Sara wiped down his back and shoulders, then shifted positions to sit in front of him, dumping the washcloth in the bowl. She rung out some of the excess water, but rather than resuming where she left off, she brought a finger to his stomach, tracing a faint scar on his lower abdomen. Emil sucked in a sharp breath at the unexpected touch.

She glanced up. "S-Sorry, I –"

"Appendicitis, when I was ten," he said, answering her unasked question. He was used to people wanting to know how he got all his scars. It came up a lot during interviews, especially, although since those were mostly in Czech, it wasn't surprising that Sara hadn't read them. "The large one you saw on my back is from a crash I got into mountain biking. This one," – he indicated a scar above his uninjured knee – "was a snowboarding accident on the half-pipe. I tried to do a forward-flipping backside 540, but it didn't go very well…"

He continued pointing out the various scars on his body, grateful for a neutral topic to talk about. Emil remembered the stories behind every single one of them. Some might look at his marred body in disgust – or worse, pity – but he never really minded the marks his injuries left on him, considering them all precious mementos, proof that he was living his life to the fullest.

"And this one?" She touched a scar near his elbow.

"Oh, that?" He had almost forgotten about that one, one of the very first in his collection. "That's from jumping out of a tree when I was seven. Broke my arm. My parents grounded me for an entire month in punishment." As if a broken arm wasn't punishment enough.

Sara shook her head. "One of these days, you're going to get yourself killed," she said, wiping his chest with the washcloth.

"That's what my coach always says."

"Why do you do it, then? Risk your life doing such dangerous things?"

"Because it's fun," he said with a grin. "There's no bigger thrill than facing your greatest fears, head-on, your heart pounding in your chest and the adrenaline coursing through your veins. It's like… It's like…" Emil shrugged, unable to put it into proper words. "It's just…incredible."

"Sounds amazing," Sara said, sighing as she once again dunked the washcloth in the lukewarm water and began wiping down his legs. "I envy you, a little. I could never be that brave."

"Hey, what are you talking about? Didn't you used to skate pairs with Mickey?" Emil reminded her, his hand covering the one she had placed on the bed beside his injured knee. In fact, it was watching the two of them skate together in the pairs event during his very first junior competition that originally caught his eye – his "bi-awakening", as he came to think of it. "Pair girls are badass brave. Seriously."

"That's…different. I knew that Mickey would never let anything bad happen to me, so doing twists, lifts, and throws was never that scary. Sometimes, though, I wish…"

"What?"

"Never mind." She tossed the washcloth into the bowl and stood, handing Emil another towel. "Here, dry yourself off. What do you normally wear to bed? I'll get your paj—"

Tossing the towel aside, Emil reached for her wrist. "Sara, wait." He wasn't sure why he did it, his hand moving as if it had a mind of its own. "What do you wish?" he asked, looking up at her when she turned back around.

"I wish…"

Sara once again sat down on the bed, positioning herself closer to Emil than she was before, the two of them nearly face-to-face. Hesitantly, she brought her palm to his hairy chest, Emil becoming aware for the first time that his heartrate had sped up, the sensation not unlike what he experienced when he was about to perform a dangerous stunt. "I wish," she repeated, her eyes looking downward, "that I was brave enough to go after what I really want."

"And what is it that you want?"

"I want…this."

Before Emil could even comprehend what was happening, Sara looked back up and bridged the small gap in between them, her lips pressing against his.

Emil's eyes widened. He'd secretly fantasized about kissing Sara many times over the years, but never did he think it would ever actually happen – that she, unlike Mickey, would return his feelings.

Or did she? At the back of his mind, he remembered their earlier conversation about what happened with Seung-Gil. Was Sara only kissing him for the experience of having a real, sober first kiss? Would she had kissed anyone available?

"I-I'm sorry," she said, pulling back when he didn't reciprocate. A faint blush colored her cheeks as she again stood up to leave. "I thought – I shouldn't have –"

"No, wait!"

Great, he was finally kissed by the woman he had loved since he was thirteen, and he hadn't even the chance to really enjoy it!

Sara turned back around, but she didn't rejoin him on the bed. Instead, she kept standing, arms wrapped around herself and eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again. "I misread the situation. I thought you might have felt the same way I did, but that was stupid. Of course you don't. I'm just Mickey's tw—"

"So, you actually do like me?" Emil interrupted.

She glanced back up. "Of course I do! You don't think I'm the type of person who goes around kissing people just for the hell of it, do you?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, ashamed to admit that wasn't far from the truth. "No, not exactly, but after what you told me about Seung-Gil…"

"Oh."

Sara returned to her spot on the bed, bringing her hand to his cheek. "I like you, Emil," she said, a small smile on her lips. "I have for a while, now."

"You have?"

She nodded. "Ever since you moved here and started training with us… To be honest, you're part of the reason why I look forward to practices nowadays. It's been so lonely without you at the rink. You make me laugh, and whenever I'm having trouble with my jumps, you always seem to know exactly how to cheer me up. And, well, you've certainly grown up a lot," she said, her blush returning as she glanced away. "You're not that scrawny thirteen-year-old boy who begged us to take a selfie with him because we were 'so freakin' cool' anymore."

Emil chuckled at the memory. That selfie was one of his most treasured possessions. Even after so many years, it was still the wallpaper on his phone. "I still think you and Mickey are 'freakin' cool'. The freakin' coolest."

"But is that all you think of me?" she asked, bringing her hand down to fiddle with the sunflower necklace around her neck. Emil recognized it as the one he had given her for her last birthday.

"Of course not! I li—"

The words died on his lips.

What was he thinking? He had already crossed a line. If Mickey ever found out that Sara had kissed him… No, the best thing to do was to let Sara down gently and pretend that nothing had ever happened between them. Too much was at risk.

"Sara, I-I care about you, a lot," he began again, his fingers grasping at the towel he was sitting on. "You and Mickey mean the world to me, but…"

"But?"

She turned to face him.

Sighing, Emil ran his hand through his hair. Dammit, he would disappoint one of them either way. After the courage Sara had shown in confessing her feelings, he hated the thought of lying to her like a coward. She deserved better than that. He really wasn't brave at all when it came down to it – not when it came to the things that really mattered.

Sara or Mickey – who was more important to him?

"Um, maybe I should go," Sara said when he didn't say anything else. She stood back up and began gathering her supplies. "I'll just take this stuff back to the bathroom…"

Emil remained silent, pulling his discarded T-shirt over his head. He needed to do something – _say_ something – but no magic words came to him. He clenched his hands into fists, cursing at himself for making such a mess of things. He never should have pushed Sara into revealing her secret wish. Now that he knew how she felt, it was impossible for things to stay the same between the three of them.

In that case, what was the point in even keeping his feelings for Sara hidden any longer? Was it really okay for them to deny their desires just to keep Mickey happy? Would Mickey even want that if he knew?

Emil had no answers. The only thing he did know for certain was that if he let Sara leave with things as they were, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

"Sara, wait," Emil said when Sara opened the door, preparing to leave the room. "Don't go."

Sara paused, but didn't turn around, her hand still resting on the doorknob. "It's fine. Just forget about it," she said. "We can just go back to the way things were. Nothing has to change."

"But it already has. I can't forget about it…and I don't think I want to."

"W-What do you mean?" She pivoted back around, the door softly clicking close behind her as she made her way back to the bed, and set the bowl of water back on his nightstand before sitting down on the edge of the mattress. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

With a shaking hand, Emil reached up and brushed back a strand of dark hair that had fallen in front of her gorgeous eyes. "Yeah, I think I am," he said. After taking a deep breath to screw up his courage, he continued, "I like you, Sara Crispino. You're the most amazing woman I've ever met, and I would very much like to kiss you again, if you'll still have me."

"Really?" Her lips curled up into a smile. "I think I would like that, too," she said, moving closer to him on the bed so that her mouth was only centimeters away from his.

Emil only hesitated a moment before pulling her even closer and brushing his lips against hers in a gentle kiss.

It was everything and nothing like he ever imagined, a natural high that rivaled the feeling he felt when he landed his first ever quad jump. He had done a lot of wild and dangerous stunts over the course of his life, but nothing compared to the thrill of finally having Sara in his arms. His hands dropped to her waist as Sara wrapped her arms around his neck, her soft lips parting to allow him to deepen the kiss.

One kiss became two…then three…then four. After that, Emil lost count. Sara showed no signs of wanting to stop, and he was only too happy to oblige, unable to get enough. It was only the need for oxygen that finally broke them apart, the two of them breathing heavily.

"Okay, so, um, wow," Sara said, her forehead pressed against his. "That was one hell of a first kiss… Well, third kiss, I guess."

"Let's consider it the first when we tell our grandchildren. Much better story," Emil said, Sara bursting into giggles.

"Okay, deal. Can we do it again, now?"

Emil grinned, more than ready for another round. "I think that can be arranged…"

However, as he leaned forward to kiss her again, he paused.

Sara tilted her head to the side, confused. "Emil? Something wrong?"

"Mickey." As happy as he was, he wouldn't be able to truly enjoy being with Sara until everything was out in the open. "We're going to have to tell him."

Some of the light that had sparkled in her eyes dimmed at the reminder of her brother. "Do we really have to? I mean, I know he'll find out eventually, but for now, can't we just keep it to ourselves? At least for a little while?"

As tempting as that idea was… "He needs to know."

"Oh, my god, Mickey is not my keeper, Emil!" Huffing, Sara crossed her arms over her chest as she turned her back to him. "I don't need his permission to be with you. This isn't the eighteenth century, as much as he wishes it was. I can date whoever I want."

"I wasn't saying we should ask his permission," Emil said, reaching for her elbow. "Of course it's completely your choice. I just… I really don't want to keep this a secret from Mickey. It doesn't feel right."

"I know." Her shoulders slumped as she brought her hands down to her lap. "I don't want to hide it from him either, but…"

Emil understood her hesitation. He wasn't looking forward to Mickey finding out either. Even in the best case scenario, it was difficult to imagine things not changing between them. He spent so many years denying his feelings, not wanting to risk losing either one of them as a friend, but it wasn't his style to play it safe. He realized now that if he ever wanted to grasp true happiness in love, he couldn't keep letting his fears hold him back.

And if that meant losing Mickey's friendship… Well, he would live. His heart would break, but it wouldn't kill him – it would just leave a scar that would eventually heal and become another precious memory he would never forget.

"Let me talk to him when he gets back," Emil said, already steeling himself. "Then, once my knee is better, I promise I'll take you on an amazing first date."

Turning back around to face Emil, Sara reached for one of his hands and shook her head. "No, I should be the one to break the news to him."

"Are you sure?"

"This is my battle to fight, not yours," she said. "I'll make him understand, no matter what. I promise."

* * *

A couple of days later, Emil was awakened by a muffled bang that sounded like a cabinet door being slammed shut. He groaned upon seeing the blurry numbers on his digital alarm clock: 6:04 a.m. The one perk about being injured and not being able to attend practice was that he could sleep in as late as he wanted. Rubbing his eyes, Emil sat up and let out a yawn.

"Sara, is that you?" he called out, wondering why she had come over so early. He wasn't expecting her until around lunchtime, when she had promised to come visit him between practices at the rink.

Nobody answered. Emil grabbed his crutches to stand and headed to the living area, pausing in the doorway when he saw Mickey in the kitchen. He was making as much noise as humanly possible as he rummaged through the silverware drawer.

Oh, right. He had forgotten that Mickey had returned from his shoot yesterday evening.

"Hey, Mickey. Welcome back!"

Mickey glared at him before shutting the silverware drawer and tossing a spoon by the bowl already on the table. An unopened box of the disgusting granola cereal Mickey knew he hated stood beside it.

"Breakfast is ready," Mickey practically barked.

Emil sighed. It seemed Sara had wasted no time in talking to her brother about their budding relationship. He hobbled to the table and poured some of the cereal into the bowl full of milk without complaint, forcing a spoonful down his mouth in penance.

"So, uh, how did your shoot go?" he asked, deciding it best to stick to neutral subjects. "Is Valentina Ricci as gorgeous in real-life as she is on the big screen?"

Mickey ignored him, pretending to be preoccupied with unloading the previous night's dishes from the dishwasher. Sara had made them _parmigiana di melanzane_ – another culinary masterpiece. Emil had a feeling he was going to have to work extra hard when he was finally able to resume practices to keep his weight down if Sara kept making such delicious meals for him.

"Mick—"

He finally whipped around, purple eyes – identical to Sara's – blazing. "What the hell, Emil?" Mickey said. "I leave town for a couple of days and you decide to try to get in Sara's pants? I _trusted_ you."

"That's not what happened, Mickey. Sara was the one –"

"I don't care!" Mickey crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter. "How long?"

Emil frowned, not quite understanding the question. "How long what? How long have we been dating?"

"No. How long have you liked Sara…like that?"

"A…a while." _About as long as I've liked you_, he added in his head, a secret he was determined to keep to his grave. He stirred his cereal with his spoon and sighed. "Since my junior debut, maybe?"

Mickey's eyes widened, and Emil sensed some of his anger dissipating, his shoulders slumping as he brought his arms back down to his side.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Come on, Mickey. You know why. You hate every guy who even looks at Sara the wrong way." Emil ate another spoonful of cereal, making a face. "Besides, I was just a kid back then. She was way out of my league."

Joining Emil at the table, Mickey scoffed. "What are you talking about? She's still out of your league."

"Yeah, I know," Emil said, a faint smile on his face. Sometimes, he still couldn't believe it himself, that someone as beautiful and kind and all-around wonderful as Sara was actually interested in a daredevil clown like him.

"But she could do worse, I suppose…" Mickey mumbled, so low that Emil wasn't sure he heard correctly at first.

He set down his spoon. "Does that… Does that mean we have your blessing?" Emil asked, afraid to even dare hope.

Mickey rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not exactly _happy_ about it," he said, "but as Sara pointed out several times last night, she _is_ an adult. I know I can't keep protecting her forever…"

"Mickey…" A part of Emil wanted to reach out and embrace him, but he held back, realizing it would be a bad idea, for many reasons. "I promise, I have no intention of ever hurting Sara," he said, settling for placing a hand on Mickey's shoulder instead. "I want to do whatever I can to make her happy."

"You better. If you ever do anything to make her cry…" He let his threat trail off and sighed. "Well, I know you're a good guy. If I have to trust her happiness to somebody, I guess I'm glad it's you."

At that, Emil really couldn't resist hugging him, throwing an arm around Mickey's shoulders to pull him closer and kissing him on the cheek. "Thanks, bro!"

"Yeah, yeah." Rolling his eyes, Mickey stood back up and took away the bowl of cereal in front of Emil. "Don't get any weird ideas. I said you could date her, not marry her. It's a thousand years too early for you to be thinking about marriage."

He knew that. Still, Emil grinned. Things had turned out even better than he ever dared to imagine. Not only did he finally get the girl of his dreams, he didn't have to lose Mickey's friendship after all. Taking the risk really had pay off.

"But maybe someday…? Then we really would be brothers."

"We'll see," was all that Mickey would say as he tossed him a small paper bag containing a couple of pastries from the café down the street.

But Emil could have sworn he saw a hint of a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Yuri On Ice doesn't belong to me.
> 
> AUTHOR'S NOTES: "Cucinare L'Italiano Con Sara Crispino" is supposed to translate to "Cooking Italian With Sara Crispino" according to Google Translate. I don't know if that's actually correct or not, but, eh, Emil's not fluent in Italian either, so if it's not right, let's pretend I'm brilliant and did it on purpose, okay? (Okay, so it's supposed to be "Cucinare Italiano Con Sara Crispino". Thanks, sybilvane, for the info! I've corrected it.)
> 
> "Risotto alla pescatora" is seafood risotto and "parmigiana di melanzane" is eggplant parmesan.
> 
> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr! My username is kaleidodreams.


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